


Gold Dust Woman

by LadyVisenya



Series: pjo x mcu [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Marvel Cinematic Universe Fusion, Gen, Iron Man Fusion, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, forgive me for i havent read these books in a while, not heavy but its there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2019-11-21 11:56:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18141878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyVisenya/pseuds/LadyVisenya
Summary: It’s been twenty eight day since she was kidnapped. Annabeth would know this even if she wasn’t scratching a line into the wooden boards she called a bed every day. In situations like this, it was important to keep track of time. It keeps her from becoming disoriented, it keeps things in perspective.Like how tomorrow the car battery that she has hooked up to her heart, that’s powering her heart, will give out, spent, and she’ll die.Iron Man Au.





	1. Once Upon a time in Afghanistan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rock on gold dust woman  
> Take your silver spoon  
> Dig your grave

It’s been twenty eight day since she was kidnapped. Annabeth would know this even if she wasn’t scratching a line into the wooden boards she called a bed every day. In situations like this, it was important to keep track of time. It keeps her from becoming disoriented, it keeps things in perspective.

Like how tomorrow the car battery that she has hooked up to her heart, that’s powering her heart, will give out, spent, and she’ll die.

Unless her miniature arc reactor works.

It has to.

Annabeth has spent countless nights awake, pouring over the math and plans. she flips through the pages and pages of sketches. Carefully combs through the numbers for any mistake, any miscalculation, until her eyes swim. In some ways its not all that different from home, where she’d spent days shut up in her lab, dreaming up new technology only to turn around and sell it to the military.

The arc reactor had been written off as a publicity stunt. An inefficient source of clean energy. A pipe dream no one had bothered chasing. Not even her when the math hadn’t worked on to make it feasible, she’d just shrugged, downed her scotch, and moved on to the next big contract.

She’d been so caught up in research and development, in making weapons, that she had lost track of things. Or maybe she didn’t want to know. Didn’t want to think about the people she’d killed. The blood on her hands.

If she’d bothered to keep track, maybe no one in her company would’ve sold things to the enemy.

If If If. She was going to drive herself crazy thinking about all the things she shouldn’ve done.

Annabeth didn’t have time for that.

Not here. She won’t die here in this godforsaken cave, not before she can put things right. Not before she can start to make amends.

She refuses to let death be her legacy.

“I’m here if you need steadier hands,” Armeen Hephaestus utters over to her from his own spot, carefully stripping down the weapons and tools they’ve been given according to her own schematics.

Every moment they waste not working on her plan is another second in which the 10 Rings might turn around and decide to kill them.

“It’s alright,” she answers, not bothering to look up. Annabeth hates relying on others, hates that she won’t be able to insert the arc reactor herself, might die unable to do anything to save herself if it fails. “Just stick to the plan.”

The words tumble out harshly in the soft light of the cave, lightbulbs flickering. Theelectric grid thats been rigged up is horribly inefficient, but Annabeth isn’t about to tell her captors that.

Her hands don’t shake as she places the last pieces in and waits for the flicker. For the arc reactor to power on if she’s rights about the math and she always is, this should generate more power than it consumes. It won’t be perfect.

But it’ll keep her alive and that’s good enough for now.

Annabeth sighs in relief as it flickers softly, before a steady white light comes on light. She can’t wait to see the look on Arachne’s face when Annabeth shows her what she did with their publicity stunt.

If she makes it out alive.

No. She puts the arc reactor down, turning to call over Hephaestus, she can’t think like that.

“Come on Armeen,” she tells him, “I can’t wait to stop lugging around this battery.”

It’s been twenty eight days and Annabeth wonders where Thalia is, leading the search over the vast deserts of Afghanistan.

It doesn’t really matter.

The 10 Rings was right, they’ll never find her here. There’s just to much ground to cover.

That’s fine. Annabeth’s only ever been able to rely on herself and she’ll get herself out of here and Hephaestus too.

Then she’ll make sure Chase Industries never manufactures another weapon again.

*

Six shots in, a glass of champagne in hand for the occasion and Annabeth is bubbly. Is open and friendly in the addictive way she can never manage sober. Her smile feels foreign but the man who’s wrapped his arms about her, his hand covering hers before they throw the dice and watch it hit the roulette before landing on one of their winning numbers, he’s fun and hot and she likes one night stands. They’re easy.

“Yay,” she giggles, turning to him, giving up on his name when her thoughts feel so disconnected.

“You must be my good luck charm,” he grins, looking boyishly charming as he does.

It’s such a cliche, fitting in perfectly in Vegas.

Grover rolls his eyes, clearing finding the line beyond cheesy, from his spot on her right, the rest of her bodyguards spread out around.

“Yeah,” she replies airily, downing her champagne and distantly wondering if its to late to upgrade the targeting systems on the Medusa Missiles. Her mother never acknowledged anything less then perfection. It was a trait she’d passed on to her, along with her grey eyes and height.

No, both her parents had been tall.

He kisses her, lips saturated with beer, and Annabeth mindlessly goes along, wishing men weren’t so into beer. It never tastes good. And cocktails were so much better at getting people drunk faster.

“Lets go again,” he suggests.

“I’m game,” she answers, signaling for another drink.

Annabeth doesn’t really have time for this, she’s leaving Vegas in an hour back to San Francisco. But maybe he’d like a free ride to SF?

“Annabeth,” Thalia calls out, meeting Jack’s? drunk and carefree gaze with her own steely one, the same look she gave Annabeth overtime she found her less them sober, falling over and refusing Grover’s assistance, “you missed the ceremony.”

It’s the chastising of someone who’s already given up hope of getting through, hand wrapped around a glass award.

The reason she’d come to Vegas.

“Vegas is so fun,” she replies, dismissing the man and falling into step besides Thalia, away from the gambling tables, “and yet you want me to spend my time here in a room full of corporate assholes?”

It does the trick, Thalia laughs, “so long as you make it to the plane for-,”

“I know,” she cuts off, “gosh mom there’s a reason I have a nanny!” She takes the trophy from Thalia before she can think to try and smash her head in with it, “I’m sure Katie’ll find a great place to put this were it’s not ostentatious.” Next tool the other awards.

“Pretty sure you gave up any hope of that when you built a hose overlooking the bay,” Thalia replies, her uniform looking nice and starched. She was at home in uniform more than Annabeth could hope to be in a dress, but it was Vegas and it felt right when she’d decided on the Cushnie. Now she was missing her comfortable suits. “do you have any clue how much real-estate is going for in San Fransisco these days?”

“It’s on the cliffs,” Annabeth adds with a grin at her old friend. They’d been at MIT together, back when Thalia had over-dyed black hair andripped band t shirts, perpetually wearing sandals even in winter.

“Let me know when you want to settle down,” Thalia teases, “I’d love to be a trophy wife.”

“I thought they’d reinstated don’t ask don’t tell now with the new administration,” Annabeth wonders out loud.

Thalia nudges her side lightly, “don’t even get me started. I risk my life serving this country and this is the thanks I get back home! This is who the country votes for?”

The limo pulls up and Grover opens the door up for her, forever the gentleman.

Annabeth laughs at Thalia, “You know what they say, there’s no rest for the wicked. See you in a few.”

Tahlia shakes her head as she walks aways.

Annabeth grins and steps towards the open car door.

Before she can slide into the car and head home, a voice calls out behind her, “Ms. Chase do you have anything to say on the situation in Afghanistan.”

She looks at Glover, who helplessly shrugs, “I guess he’s hot. I don’t know. I’m only Juniper-sexual.”

Annabeth turns around, facing a rather handsome man, tall, broad shoulders and chiseled chin. It just reminds her of everything she’s not. This is the person that the military would love to deal with, not her. Not another Chase woman.

“Go for it,” she says with a grin, forcing herself no to pull down on her dress, it’s supposed to be this short. Maybe she needed a new tailor?

“Annabeth Chase, you’ve been called the Da Vinci of our times,” he starts, making her beam despite herself, she’s always a fool for flattery, “what do you have to say to that?”

“I do what I can to contribute to society, to making a better world.” It’s one of those vague statements her PR handlers had drilled into her. Harmless regardless of any context.

“What about your other nickname? The Merchant of Death? What do you have to say to that,” there’s teeth to his smile this time, a crusader then. Another reporter out to change the world.

“Let me guess, Berkeley ,” she says in lieu of an answer, the school was infamous for their many protests.

“Boston U actually.”

Annabeth nods. “Well, it’s an imperfect world we live in. I guarantee the day weapons are no longer needed to defend this country and it’s peoples freedoms I’ll start making bricks and solar panels.” She pauses, crossing her arms in front of her. This was the thing about dresses, where was she supposed to stuff her hands into? “My mother used to say that peace was having a bigger stick than the other side,” Annabeth says with a shrug. Athena had never spoken those words to her, but she’d parroted them often enough to the press. “And isn’t peace what we all want?”

He grins like he’s in on the joke, only highlighting how handsome he is, dark skin and even darker eyes, “interesting words coming from the woman selling the sticks.”

Even she grins at this, genuine for the first time all night. “What’s you name?”

“Isaiah, Isaiah Levey from Vanity Fair magazine.”

“Well Isaiah,” Annabeth replies, liking the way his name sounds on her lips, liking the look of him even more, “My mother helped defeat the nazis, she worked on the Manhattan project, she developed technology that propelled us into space and is now used in computers and phones. A lot of people, including your professors at Boston, would call that being a hero.”

Isaiah fires back, “A lot of people would also call that war profiteering.”

Annabeth’s lips draw thin, as the alcohol that’s kept her buzzed for the last hour wears off, “Tell me, do you plan on including the countless lives we’ve save through advancements in medical care and agricrops? All those breakthroughs,” she says pointedly, “military funding.”

“Wow,” he says shaking his head, “you ever lose an hour of sleep your whole life?”

And just like the fuckboys Katie always complains about, like she didn't somehow incorporate flannel into all of her outfits, she utters, “I’m prepared to lose a few with you.”

She might be off-putting at the best of times, and not half as beautiful as the wives of her fellow billionaires, but confidence could more than make of for those shortcomings.

Isaiah shrugs helplessly, grin on his lips, and he slides into the limo with her.

*

It’s been seventy nine days since she’d watched a humvee blow up. It was a lot nastier up close then in testing facilities out in Nevada, where distance made the explosion look beautiful.

Before she could register that they were under attack, before she could react and put her drink down or maybe finish it off and hope it was just a nightmare, the solider in the front. . .R-something. . .Reyes?. . .maybe it was Ramirez? Was telling her to get down, the words barely leaving her mouth before a gunshot splattered her brains reminiscent of a Pollock, body falling over like a puppet that had its strings cut.

Annabeth had looked around stupidly. She didn’t know what to do. More gunshots. More blood.

There had been smoke and dust and she couldn’t see anything, couldn’t even see her enemy until she heard the gunshots, seconds before they made contact, ripping through the Humvee like it was made of cardboard.

She crawls out, dodging behind the nearest rock, in too much shock. Her hand goes reflexively to her necklace, thumbing over the beads. More gunshots. There’s no way to know where to go. Who’s her enemy and where she should run too so she just stays hurled behind the rocks.

Annabeth wants to slap herself, throat choked on a scream. Everyone likes to believe they’d react the right way in a fight or flight situation but theres no right way and oh my god she’s going to die.

Then there was the missile, landing just close enough for her to make out the logo, the same logo she’d learned to recognize when she was still learning to write, Chase Industries and then the explosion and then nothing.

It’s night.

And the 10 rings members are suddenly filing in, guns locked and loaded.

Annabeth knows its night because the shifts changed. Even with their rotating shifts and change in partners, she’d quickly memorized their faces. Besides, at night, they yawn more.

They yell in their various languages, strutting around and throwing their weight before a bald man clicks his fingers, his face hard, with a glee in his eyes that speaks to a sadistic nature.

They grab for Armeen, dragging him before the bald man, knocking him to his knees.

The bald man must be the leader. Head held high, back straight as though he’s looking down at everyone. He can’t be much taller than her.

Annabeth might be tall for a woman, but she’s only average in comparison to most men and Hephaestus is taller than most. He’s also lanky, hands rough from hard labour. Not a handsome man with his large nose and small chin, eyes lost behind thick glasses.

He’s her friend and when they bring a hot iron rod to his mouth she finds herself yelling, “NO,” moving forward against her better judgement.

All the guns in the room point at her.

She blinks, realizing that no matter how valuable she is, how rich she is, how smart she is, they won’t hesitate to shoot. Their patience has worn through.

“I need him,” she utters, her protest sounding weak to her own ears, “he’s a good assistant.” She won’t have anymore blood on her hands. He has a wife and kids back home.

Annabeth only has Thalia. People she pays probably don’t count. Grover and Katie’ve no doubt found a new job.

She would’ve.

Then again, there’s a reason everyone’s always found her cold.

“You have twenty four hours to give me a Medusa Missileor I’ll shoot you both,” the bald man spits, “I don’t care who you are you bitch!”

She doesn’t wince anymore. The words cold bitch have long trailed after her.

The man kicks Hephaestus aside, before turning to leave.

Then their gone.

A look at him and they both know they’re in for a long night if her plan’s going to work, if they’re going to escape.

*

Annabeth wakes up at six in the morning on the dot the same way she has every day since boarding school.

Isaiah is still sleeping when she slips out of her room and down her lab.

Katie’ll take care of him later.

Katie’ll also let her know when it’s time to go, the only person aside from herself who knows the password down to her lab, her heels click on the glass steps.

“You are supposed to be halfway around the world,” she utters already scrolling through her ChasePad, a prototype of the latest version that was still in development, her tone leaving no room for argument.

“How’d she take it,” Annabeth says, pivoting while she looks over her latest engine, finding that the Lamborgini, no matter how nice it looked, handled like shit.

“Like a champ,” Katie replies.

“Why’re you trying to kick me out of my own house,” Annabeth asks, shifting her weight onto her other leg before it can fall asleep, the last few screws falling into places. At first it was just a matter of replacing the wheels and suspension, but once she looked under the hood, Annabeth knew she could do better.

“Your flight was scheduled to leave an hour and a half ago,” Katie says curtly. Grover must have told her how much she drank last night.

“You know, I do know my limit,” she responds, “and it’s my plane so shouldn’t it take off whenever I want it to?” She’s being ridiculous, Annabeth knows this, but. . .she doesn’t know.

She won’t see Katie for a three days. It’s not long in the grand scheme of things. . .

Katie ignores her, barreling on, “Social drinking is a stepping stone to alcoholism and I need to speak to you about a couple things, before I send you on your way.”

“I mean whats the point of a private plane if I’m still subjected to boarding times.” Grover had told her once about commercial flights and Annabeth had felt something inside her wither and die. It probably came with never having to deal with anything money couldn’t fix.

Maybe she should get out more, talk to people other than her employees and those with a vested interest in her company.

“Xiao called, she has another Jackson Pollock lined up for the auction, do you want it? Yes or no.” Annabeth couldn’t see any point to splatter paint, there was no technique or point really. She much preferred the carefully rated indian and egyptian art pieces. There was the greek technical prowess in sculpture and paintings, coming the closest to lifelike. But her dad had lover abstract art and modern art.

So, “yes,” she answers, turning around and gladly downing the last of her cup of water. Her head was still pounding even after the two pills she’d taken this morning. Hangovers were the thing that would knock down any impending alcoholism Katie kept nagging her about.

“It’s overpriced,” Katie informs her, “and not a great representation of his later renowned work.”

“I said yes Katie,” she sighs, hearing the snap in her own voice, scrambling to add, “it’ll be like those parents who hang up all their kids drawing from preschool.” Her mother had never done that, waving annabeth away until she’d come back with her first circuit board, lines deep around her mouth as she’d frowned and told her the how inefficient it was.

Katie smiles, “Okay. The MIT commencement-,”

“Is in June,” annabeth says walking up to the main floor, “nice try.”

“Well if I have to hear it then you have to hear it,” Katie teases, easily, the clack of heels on concrete a tell tale sign that she’s following close behind.

“Didn’t I hire you to hear it so I don’t have to,” Annabeth snipes back, knowing Katie won’t take it the wrong way. They’ve been working together for to long.

“I’ll take that as a yes and I need you to sign this,” she says offering up a long and complicated paper with fine print as they reach the main living room, her duffle bag and carry on already prepared for her.

“Wow you’re really trying to get rid of me. Why?” It’s blunt, the way Annabeth has learned to be in the corporate world and military world where old men will look down on her and call her girl.

“I have plans.”

Annabeth makes a face, “I don’t like it when you have plans.”

Katie rolls her eyes, “first of all that’s why we have unions and workers rights and secondly I’m allowed to have plans on my birthday.”

Annabeth winces. She’d forgotten. She relied so much on Katie to remind her of all her appointments and meeting, and she could hardly tell Katie to reminder of her birthday. “Is it? This weekend?” It must be November then.

That explained all the christmas decorations that had been up in Vegas.

“Yes,” Katie responds, smothering a laugh, “isn’t that strange? It’s the same day as last year.”

“Well, buy yourself something nice from me.” Annabeth never knew what people wanted and it just didn’t seem practical to guess. That’s how people ended up with something useless, that they didn’t want, and then had to figure out what to do with; regift it, throw it aways, or have ti sit in the back of your closet. 

“I already did.”

“Is it a new and exotic species of plant,” She asks knowingly. Katie had a way with plants, managing to keep even orchids alive.

“Thank you,” Katie says with a soft smile, before thrusting Annabeth’s luggage at her and pushing her out the door where Grover awaits with the ferrari, one designed by the great Nikki Lauda, the splashiest thing her father ever owned. It had only needed minor adjustments.

Annabeth laughs and helps Grover throw her luggage in.

*

The suit works, she flies for a full fifteen seconds before crashing, just long enough to escape the fireball of explosions she leaves behind.

Along with Hephaestus.

Dead.

Another death on her hands.

Even in February, the deserts of Afghanistan are scorching hot, dry, her eyes are strained after spending almost three months in darkness, only broken by weak lighting.

In comparison the sun a entirely too bright, too much.

Her throat arched, a strip of fabric wrapped around her head as a makeshift hat, keeping some of the sun off her.

The sun keeps her going, orients her because the sun always east and sets in the west, no matter what part of the world she’s in, ignoring how everywhere she looks out to looks the same. Sand, and more fucking sand.

It’s been eighty days since she was kidnapped.

they must still be searching for her. Thalia wouldn’t abandon her. Besides she’d Annabeth Chase, billionaire wonderkid, child of the late great Athena Chase.

But the fear of wondering forever, until she collapses and dies nags at her.

There’s just so much sand.

Vast planes spreading out beyond her as she leaves the mountains at her back.

What are the chances of-Thalia. . .

. . .Thalia finding her. . .

She hears the sounds first, the beautiful roaring of army craft, too steady too be of any make other than the united states government.

It’s the most wonderful sound she’s ever heard.

Her hands spread out, waving over. . .

Holy shit! Holy fucking shit!

It worked!

Something in her chest loosens, a weight, the panic that’s been kept at bay by adrenalin, by need and focus, hummingbird panic that makes her arc reactor flicker in the bright daylight of the desert, worlds away from the gloomy rain of San Fransisco in the winter.

She can breath now.

She’s alive.

Alive.

A live.

It feels like something that belongs to someone else. The drinks and parties and work and billions in the bank.

That can’t be. . .her.

The image of her own missile landing right in front of her forever seared into the backs of her eyelids.

Thalia walks down and out of the aircraft, soldiers fanning out with heavy automatic arms pointed out into the desert plains.

Annabeth can breath now. She smiles, falling into Thalia’s arms, into her embrace. She’s never been more glad to see Thalia’s dark blue eyes, almost black in some light.

“How was the fun-vee?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Annabeth hears herself say and then she’s gone. Exhausted down to her bones. The weight of running for months on adrenalin finally catching up to her and she blacks out, sliding into R.E.M. sleep for the first time since SF.

Later Thalia’ll tell her she was debriefed and gave coherent answers before downing some crackers and a coke, getting a quick medical checkup, before they let her sleep.

She doesn’t remember a thing after she see’s Thalia. Her very own godly apparition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope it's not too occ but do let me know. all comments are very welcome. :)


	2. Up the (Beach)

Katie Gardner is waiting for her when they land, pot of flowers in hand looking better than any bouquet ever could, eyes rimmed red from crying.

Annabeth feels like crying to, at the sight of Katie in her loose slacks and earth toned blouses, in a look that was all her, bohemian corporate as Grover had put it, easily making her short frame appear smaller. Trying for some normalcy she desperately craves she utters, “Tears Gardner? Really? I expected you to have tied yourself to a tree in the amazon by now.”

Katie snorts, the edges of her lips turning up as she studies Annabeth, “you know I hate job hunting since unfortunately we live in this capitalist hellscape.”

They both snort at that.

It was still crazy to think that Katie, her assistant slash nanny slash everything Annabeth could ever want, was a diehard hippie who Grover had met through his girlfriend. A botanist who railed against corporate farming.

“Speaking of capitalism let’s go get a Cheeseburger,” she orders grinning a Grover, in his frayed tweed suit, the only kind of suit he could stand, who’s always down for food.

He grins, resigned to her tyrannical whims once more. Who needed ubereats when she had him. Annabeth had even missed Grover’s stupid goatee he always sported.

“We can do that,” Katie responds, sliding into the car next to her, seating her plant and buckling it in as well, “after we go to the hospital.” Her tone carries the careful patience that parents have when talking to their kids. Normally Annabeth would be annoyed to be patronized like this, but she’s too relieved to be here, mind turning over all she has to do, all she should do now.

This time, she’ll do better.

She won’t let death be her legacy.

“Grover,” Annabeth states, a cold edge to her voice, “drive through in-and-out thento Chase Industries.” Her mind running over all she wants to say and what’s the best way to say it. There’ll no doubt be accusations of PTSD, which might be true if she’s being honest about it, but not about this. This is what she wants, what she has to do. If she survived for any reason when Hephaestus did not, it was for this reason. 

Annabeth won’t design anymore weapons. And if that’s the end of Chase Industries so be it. She can do better. “And call a press meeting,” she adds to Katie, the right words evading her, mind still jumbled from jet lag and months as a captive.

“We’re supposed to meet up with Ms. Stane at the hospital,” Katie responds with a sigh, “and you need to go to the hospital.”

“I’m fine,” Annabeth snaps, “they already looked me over. What I need is a burger and to call a press meeting, in that order. Grover?”

“Yes Mam,” he says, voice dripping sarcasm, but takes the freeway that’ll lead to Chase Industries building.

“Annie, you have to go to the hospital!”

“I don’t have to do anything. I’ve been in captivity for three months. Let me have these two things Katie and then you can have as many doctors look me over as you want.”

Besides her, Katie sighs, pulling out her phone to call for the press meeting.

Arachne will understand once Annabeth explains herself. She hopes as she watches the scenery of San Fransisco go by from behind her tinted windows. Nothings changed.

It all still looks the same, people carrying on with their lives as always. For some reason, she expected everything to be different, but she supposes the world stops for no one.

Arachne will understand. She’s known the woman for years, her mother’s right hand woman, more business then R&D, the perfect foil to Annabeth’s constant R&D, and she’s always been in her corner, always been there for Annabeth even when the board tried to ice her out.

It’ll all work out.

*

All the junior executives are waiting on the driveway along with Arachne, hair streaked with grey and donning a classic channel tweed skirt suit. The sharpness in her eyes and lips ever-present despite the years.

Annabeth doesn’t hesitate to hug her as soon as the car pulls to a stop and she gets out, leaving Katie to trail behind her. She grips the older woman tightly, soaking in her crisp clean scent, worlds away from the cave. Arachne who’d always sent her christmas presents to her school, who’d made sure Annabeth didn’t spend her birthday alone after her parents had died in a car accident when she was eighteen. She’d whispered everything she needed to know about the other board members into Annabeth’s ear, who was cheating not their wives, who had dug themselves into a money pit and together they’d ensured the success of her mother’s company. Her mother’s favorite child.

“We were supposed to meet at the hospital silly girl,” Arachne says exasperatedly, but her grip is tight around Annabeth, despite the press and workers surrounding them. “Not here. You don’t have to worry about the company, just rest and recover my darling.”

“Oh you know me,” Annabeth replies, smiling brightly, “Ever the workaholic. Burger?”

“How thoughtful,” Arachne says with a shake of her head, reaching for the burger bag Grover offers her, already falling into place to flank her. “Still, you don’t need a board meeting so soon. Let me handle it.”

“I’m fine really,” Annabeth waves off as she struts towards the press conference room, “besides, everyone will be reassured once they see me in person. It’ll strengthen our position in the market.” All true, but that was besides the point. Their stocks were about to plummet.

“Will you at least tell me what this is about,” Arachne asks her, smiling and waving to the press, “I can’t help you if you don’t let me.”

Annabeth replies with a small fond smile, “you’ll see in a second,” then she steps up , looking out into the crowd of reporters, all hungry for something, for their pulitzer prize winning article. They lean forward, awaiting her words.

There’s a certain twisted pleasure at having this much power over people.

Thalia stands in the back, already in her nice air force suit, all her ranks pinned to her jacket like a girl scout. She hopes Thalia will understand too, even if she is military.

“Is it okay if everyone sits down,” Annabeth finds herself saying, letting her ice queen person slide away, already sitting down, back to the podium. “A little less formal.”

Theres a stunned silence, as they all look around at each other, chickens with their heads cut off, before following her example, lights flashing, documenting her every move. Nothing she isn’t used to dealing with.

Taking a deep breathe she starts, hands trembling, “I never got to say goodbye to mother. I never got to goodbye to my mother.” She looks out into the crowd, eyes unfocused, they all bleed together into the press. Not reporters, not people, but the press. That’s what money and power do, keeps you from seeing people.

Hoe did it take her so long to figure it out?

“There’s questions that I would ask her. I would’ve asked her about how she felt about what this company did-what it does-if she was conflicted. If she ever had doubts.” Try as she might, Annabeth can’t imagine Athena having doubts, a strong relentless woman. But maybe she just didn’t voice them to Annabeth. Maybe if they’d had about twenty more years they would’ve mended their relationship.

“Or maybe she was every inch the woman we all remember from the news,” Annabeth continues, thinking back on all the times she’d seen her mother on the news, in history class. The hard imposing woman who’d seemed less a woman and more a living legend.

Her lips are drawn, hands closing into fists in her lap, “I saw young americans-civilians killed, by the very weapons I designed to defend them and protect them.” The image of _Chase Industries_ in her minds eye, over and over again, a second to read it before it blows up. “And I saw that I had become part of a system that is comfortable with zero accountability.”Her hands looking down at her kevlar clad chest as blood welled up,

Someone in her company had been dealing under the table. Maybe more than one. And there was really only one way to stop her part in all this.

“Miss Chase! Miss Chase!”

She motions to one of the reporters sitting close by her, “Miss Chase? What happened over there?”

There.

Afghanistan.

Like she was too soft to here where there was. Like she hadn’t been there.

What hadn’t happened?

“Ah-I had my eyes open,” she answers, standing up, resting lightly against the podium. “I came to realize that I had more to offer this world than just making things that blow up.” She had shelved renewable energy, her arc reactor hidden by the blouse and blazer she had on, in exchange for missiles and-there was a whole department dedicated to medical research she had only the most tangential knowledge of. “And that is why,” she continues, “Effective Immediately, I am shutting down the weapons manufacturing division of Chase Industries.”

Chaos.

They all rush at her like sharks, smelling blood in the water. Arachne looks at her wildly, grey eyes widened with surprise, the full weight of Annabeth’s statement still ringing through her mind.

Fine. They’ll talk later.

Cameras flashing.

Taking a deep breathe she continues, “-Until such a time that I can decide what the future of this company will be. What direction we’ll take. One that I am comfortable with and that is consistent with the highest good for this country as well.”

“Okay,” Arachne says cutting her off, “press conference over.”

Annabeth slips aways, away from the stage, the noise of the cameras and people an erie echo to gunshots and soldiers younger than her dying.

She moves, walking towards Grover and her security detail, Katie smiling at her, shaking her head slightly. She must be pleased, the hippie that she is, but she’s also her assistant and she must know how insane it is.

What this could cost Annabeth.

So be it.

*

The arc reactor in her chest flickers as they drive to her mansion, the car deathly silent. She was expecting more outrage on Katie’s part. About how she should’ve gone to the hospital first.

But there’s only silence.

Her chest tightens and she knows she needs an upgrade.

Funny, now she’s just another machine now. She’s always been good with machines.

Fucking irony. 

In her lab she’ll be able to mock up something better, with all the best tools and materials that money could by before the stocks tanked.

Katie asks tentatively, sounding unsure for the first time since Annabeth had hired her ten years ago, “scotch?” She looks at Annabeth like she doesn’t know her. Eyes wide as she studies her.

Annabeth meets her searching gaze evenly, “No thank you.” She needs a clear head and now she has a heart condition. She’ll need a purer palladium for the system, none of those scraps she’d had to used in the cave. That’s a start.

“Are we really doing this,” she asks annoyed, realizing Katie’s still waiting for some explanation, wanting to get it over with. If they have questions they might as well shoot.

Katie, who’s spent the last ten years by her side, anticipating her every need, making her life run smoothly, voices, “I-You know that the weapons manufacturing division of Chase Industries is where the majority of the earnings come from. It’s basically the taproot of the company.”

“I know what my company does,” Annabeth utters sourly, “I thought you’d be ecstatic. You’re all for disarmament. Against the Iraq war and everything.”

Katie scowls and Annabeth knows she's in for it. “Don’t make this about me. You’re right, I want nothing more than world peace, but not like this Annabeth. I mean, you can’t say you’re okay after being held captive for so long. “

“I know what I’m doing.”

With a sigh, Katie adds, “I just hope you’re doing this the best way you can. That you’ve thought things through Annabeth. Because for once, I don’t think you have.”

*

Her first night back home, and she doesn’t sleep in her own bed.

Figures.

*

“You have nice hands right,” Annabeth says via intercom to Katie, chest open, halfway through heart surgery, if her heart still worked. “Small dainty?”

“What,” is Katie’s reply, more amused then confused after all of Annabeth’s strange requests over the years.

“Just get down to my lab.” she hangs up, looking over the second generation arc reactor, steadier, more efficient. There’s still room for improvement, but it will do the job for now. No more flickering.

She’s going to need it while she figures out what to do with Chase Industries. What to say to Arachne when she gets back from New York.

Arachne had left her to go handle the board, telling her to keep a low profile while she wrestled with the finance suits.

It’s only ten and the stocks have dropped twenty points so far.

“What is going on,” Katie voices as she makes her way to Annabeth’s side. “Forget it, just tell me what to do.”

Annabeth laughs, “I’m upgrading my heart.”

“Jesus is that’s what’s keeping you alive?” There’s a mix of horror and fascination on Katie’s features, eye’s widening in curiosity, her rich tanned skin blanching as she sees the opened up wall socket in Annabeth’s chest.

“Was, it is now an antique,” Annabeth explains, holding up the Mark II model, “now this will, once you plug it in.”

“Are you sure-I don’t think I’m qualified for this.”

“Of course you are,” she assures Katie, she’ll start to work on the Mach II suit once this is done, “I need your help,” she admits begrudgingly, “And you are the most capable and qualified and trustworthy person I’ve ever met.”

Katie looks over her work station, Annabeth sitting back, braless, a hole punched through her chest, old arc reactor half out. She’d tried to do it herself and quickly realized that it just wasn’t going to happen.

She needed a second pair of hands.

Hands she could trust.

“Okay,” Katie nods, “just tell me what to do.”

“Okay,” Annabeth states, and she finishes pulling out the old reactor, hearing the snap of the wires underneath, the exposed wire causing an unpleasant mummer as her heart beats. “Just toss this over there and then reach in and gently pull the loose wire out, make sure not to touch thesocket wall.”

“Like in operation?” Katie says, nose scrunching in disgust as she reaches her hand into Annabeth’s chest. This coming from the same girl that didn’t scream at the sight of bugs and worms, happy to dig about in the terrace garden.

“Yeah,” Annabeth, says, black spots appearing in her vision. “Just be careful not to lift the magnet attached to-okay to late.”

Katie looks horrified, sickly green rising to her tan skin, “should I put it back in?”

“No,” Annabeth says, hearing the monitor beeping like crazy, there was that cardiac arrest. It could be worse, “just plug it in now.” “Okay,” Katie says, voice cracking as she tosses the magnet and wire and reaches in again, the wires clicking into place and Annabeth can breath again.

Well shit.

“Thank you,” she says with a sigh. Closing her eyes, letting her heartbeat stabilize. Annabeth twists it the rest of the way into place.

“Are you going to be okay,” Katie asks, looking down at her with murder in her eyes.

Annabeth just laughs, relieved. She’s been feeling that a lot lately. With a titanium alloy she can make the suit sleeker, more energy efficient, able to withstand handheld missiles. And with this new mach II she’ll have sustained flight. She’s streamline the design. It’ll give her more speed, more maneuverability.

“Don’t ever, ever, ever ask me to do something like that again.”

“Who else am I going to ask,” Annabeth replies softly, “I don’t have anyone but you.” She can’t imagine asking Grover to help her with this. It’s a little sad, that her closest friend is her assistant.

Maybe that’s why so many men cheat on their wives with their assistant.

“What should I do with the old one?”

“Destroy it,” Annabeth waves off, already heading back to her work station, looking over the files and opening a new private folder, “Festus,” she calls out to her A.I. “keep this on my servers only.”

“Gladly Miss,” Festus’ voice rings out through the room.

“You don’t want to keep it?”

“Katie, I’ve been called many things but nostalgic is not one of them. I never look back.”

*

Thalia is mentoring a new crop of air force pilots when Annabeth walks up to her, giving her space to finish and wave them off. Her inky black hair pulled back into a loose pony tail, wearing her jumpsuit with the same ease she wore leather jackets; the Keith Richards of the skies.

Amongst the sea of cameo green jumpsuits, she looks out of place in her jeans and Barbour blue jacket. Too casual.

“Hey Chase, feeling better yet?” There’s an edge to Thalia’s voice, reminding her that they’d never really talked after the press conference. She must think Annabeth’s lost her goddamn mind.

“Shut up Thalia,” Annabeth says, voice full of annoyance, “I've gotten through so many medical evaluations I'm pretty sure Katie called up every doctor in the bay area.”

“She's a great friend that one.”

“Well I do pay her for it,” Annabeth jokes.

Thalia clasps her around her shoulders, “it's good to see you man, it really is.”

“It's good to be here.” Annabeth sides out of her hold, smiling nonetheless. “Thanks for not giving up on me.”

“Of course not! Are you crazy! I love you too much bitch!” Her grin widens, offsetting her prominent crooked nose well. There’s lines around her eyes now when she smiles.

God, when did they both grow up?

“I know you do,” Annabeth states carefully, “I'm happy it was your dumb face I saw first. Wouldn't have wanted it any other way.”

Thalia snorts easily, shoulders shaking with laughter.

“Which is why I wanted to tell you about something I've been working on Thalia, something big,” She goes on carefully, voice low. She's stabilized the thrusters, flying even at 1% power. Once the suit was finished, she'd be really able to fly, finally live in to her nickname, the modern day Da Vinci, if she ever told the public about it. “I want you to be a part of it.” She knew no better pilot than her friend.

“Oh shit,” Thalia says looking over appraisingly at Annabeth, “You're about to make a lot of people very happy Annabeth!”

Dread pools in her stomach. That wasn't what she wanted at all. Not even close.

“No-I'm not-,” Annabeth rushes to explain. “This is not for the military. It’s something different. I’m not, It’s different.”

Her friend’s smile drop, serious for once. “Look Annabeth. You've just been through an incredibly traumatic situation. You need some time to process and think before you go about making any crazy decisions.” Says the same girl who'd joined the air force fresh out of high school while wearing fuck the man pins.

“What happened to the girl who ranted about the school to prison pipeline. Who hated Bush?”

“She grew up.”

For the first time, Annabeth had to wonder if Thalia even cared about the civilian casualties. Or if she was so blinded by the bigger picture.

“Annie, I want peace as much as anyone else but that's just not the world we live in. Go home, get some rest and we can talk about it all later.”

“Yeah,” Annabeth replies numbly, already running through the calculations for height and trajectory. She might break a world record if she took ice freeze into account.

*

“Festus are you up,” she calls out to her A.I.

“For you Miss, always,” the comforting voice of her interface calls out as Annabeth powers on all the lab. Looking over the plans one last time.

The suit was laid out on the table, her robotic assistants had wielded the components together while she’d been out. It gleamed silver in all its glory. Sleek, it should run like a dream. “Time to bolt me in, run the video, test run # 1.”

“I thought we were on flight test seventy-three Miss,” Festus informs her of all the thruster testing she’d gone through, receiving more than a few blasts of fire extinguisher from butterfingers.

“Maybe I should tone down the sarcasm,” Annabeth teases.

“My system is merely a reflection of your programing,” the little shit responds. Good old Festus.

Opting for a compression bodysuit and leggings she lets the robots screw her in, the suit coming to life around her, powered by the same reactor that now powers her heart.

A problem arises when they get to her long hair, loose strands getting in the way. She sighs, annoyed, reaching for a pair of scissors, “Festus, you wouldn’t mind projecting where I should cut for a pass-ible pixie cut?”

“Of course Miss.”

Her dad had often helped Annabeth braid her long blonde hair, always turning slightly green after a summer of swimming. She’d never really learned what to do with her hair other than toss it in a bun to keep it out of her eyes.

Her golden locks fall to the floor after a few cuts.

“Give it to me straight Festus.”

“You look fine Miss.”

“Robots,” she says with a smile and the rest of the armor fall into place, locking her into her titanium alloy flight suit, equipped with state of the arts defense and weaponry system. Nothing but the best for her. Just in case.

She still wasn’t sure where she was going with this. What she planned to do when she was finished.

“Systems check,” Annabeth says, moving about as Festus analysis’ the systems one last time, getting a feel for the suit. She has nearly all her mobility, heavier, feeling strange as she peers through a screen instead of her eyes only, body sequestered from the world around her.

“Everything seems to be in working order Miss. May I suggest a one percent preliminary flight test?”

Annabeth scoffs, a giddiness taking over her as she realizes how close she is to flight. Real fucking flight none of that airplane bullshit. “Engage Heads up display.”

“Check.” Festus almost sounds annoyed, as much as a robot can.

“Import all preferences from home interface.”

“Will do Miss.”

She looks around the room, overlay informing her of all her options, all the tech specs. It’s a heady way to look at the world.

“All right let’s take her for a little flight.” There’s a buzzing down to her fingertips that not tequila could reach. All the possibilities, all the math and plans coming together at last. Annabeth is giddy with excitement.

“I would advise caution Miss.”

“Festus,” she says with a smile, hidden underneath her helmet, “Sometimes you’ve got to run before you can crawl.”

“The calibration is complete and I have been uploaded Miss.”

“Alright them,” Annabeth grins, “Pull up the ATC and weather.” And then the thrusters come online and she’s flying like a rocket out of her garage and into the bay like a shooting star.

The speed makes precision hard to achieve but she knows she’ll get better with practice. It handles like a dream. Banking curves up, down, side to side, as she weaves into the city, passing over the lights of her city.

With her optics she can zoom in on people, singling them out from far below her, before turning up to the stars.

“Okay Festus lets see how much this baby can handle,” Annabeth says, heading up into the sky, passing by clouds that promise rain later. Spring in San Francisco is just as rainy as winter.

“Tread carefully Miss,” Festus says, “we have not field tested the antifreeze measures.”

“Just let me know Festus,” Annabeth snipes back, watching as the height climbs hundreds of feet a second, the suit growing cold around her. “Make a note to improve Insulation.”

“Yes Miss.”

Ice forms on her helmet as they push seventy thousand feet.

“Miss,” Festus warns.

“I got it. Reduce power to one percent,” Annabeth mutters, and then she’s falling, gravity doing the majority of the work, her thrusters only serving to give her some measure of maneuverability. The feeling of falling races through her body like a live wire, fear and adrenaline mixing together.

She laughs breathlessly.

“Miss!”

“Deploy flaps Festus.”

“Got it Miss.”

She slows down, moving to point her thrusters to the ground, to the water beneath her, still high enough to escape the sea breeze. She yells with excitement!

“Fuck it Festus let’s head home,” she calls out, powering back up to flight mode and shooting home like a rocket.

With this suit, she’ll never be helpless again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thoughts comments, kudos are all highly welcome.


	3. On the brink (of a new era)

She’s running her hand through her newly short hair, still alien to her, having just gotten out of her suit, “we need to paint it a little differently,” Annabeth says scrunching her lips, “Silver’s a little much don’t you think? Throw on the same finish we did for the Minerva satellite, that should prevent the same type of ice formation and insulate the suit as well.”

“Bringing up the mock up,” Festus calls out.

She flicks on the news that’s more gossip these days than actual reporting.

_“Tonight's red hot red carpet is here at the Palace hotel, hosting Annabeth Chase’s third annual benefit for the Firefighter’s family Fund has become the place to be for California’s high society.”_

“Festus did we get an invite for that,” Annabeth utters as she looks over Katie’s little makeshift stand that holds her Mark 1 arc reactor, flickering softly in comparison to the one she wore now.

“I don’t see any in my files Miss.”

_“-hasn’t been seen in public since her bizarre and highly controversial press conference. Some have claimed that she has been suffering severe post traumatic stress disorder and has been bedridden for weeks. Regardless no one expects her to make an appearance here tonight.”_

“Nothing like crashing your own party,” she says with a shrug, tired of playing the recluse. Arachne would just have to make due. No one in the board could go against here anyways.

“Here’s the finished rendering Miss,” Festus announces, projecting on the suit in gold.

“Well gold’s just worse,” Annabeth notes. “Throw a little hot rod red,” the same color as the ferrari. “I expect it to be done when I get home,” already moving up to her room. The pale pink suit would be perfect for this.

“It will Miss.”

*

The cameras click like crazy as she arrives and Annabeth reminds herself it’s just cameras, it’s just the press. She’s worlds away from the cave and yet it’s like she never left, hands clamming up even as she smiles, walking up to Arachne on the steps.

“What’s the world coming to when a girl’s got to crash her own party,” Annabeth says, putting an arm around the older woman who looks dashing in a sleek dress, grey hair in a rather complicated braided up do.

“Annabeth,” Arachne smiles warmly, “it’s good to see you. Thought you’d finally decided to o farm in upstate new york for all that you’ve up and disappeared.”

Hurt rings throughout, she hadn’t meant to ice out Arachne. Never her. “You told me to keep a low profile.”

“From the board,” Arachne clarifies with a roll of her eyes, “I thought you’d understand what I mean.”

Now she just feels dumb. “Well I’ll see you inside.”

“Alright just take it slow okay,” Arachne adds, “I’ve got the board just where we want them.”

“Playing them for fools like always,” Annabeth grins.”

Arachne shrugs, and with that Annabeth heads inside.

She makes a beeline for the bar. After tonight, she’s earned it. Annabeth hasn't had a drop of alcohol since Vegas. “A cape cod please,” she tells the bartender, dropping a hundred into the tip jar like it’s nothing, wad of cash stuffed into her pocket.It all seems a world away now. Events from someone else's life. Even standing here, watching people socialize, wearing the equivalent of some people’s yearly income, it’s all surreal. She can’t shut it off, can’t slide right back to business as usual. Safety never felt so compromised.

Her well worn suit doesn’t feel as comfortable to her as wearing the suit did.

Maybe the news was right, maybe she had died out there in the cave.

No.

She forces herself to derail that train of thought, sipping at her cocktail, it was a waste of time to think like that. Annabeth was alive when better men, when innocent civilians like Armeen Hephaestus, were dead. Armeen who had a wife and child he’d spoken about like a man still in the first throws of love.

It was something she’d never experienced.

She was alive and she better make it count. Was making it count.

“Miss Chase,” a man to her left says with the slightest devil may care grin to his lips, nut brown hair just long enough to begin to curl. He has a smattering of freckles over his nose and cheeks, eyes a warm brown as he regards her curiously.

“Nice to finally meet you,” echoes a man to her right, back against the bar, martini in hand, playing at james bond; a copy of the man on her left. “I’m Agent Travis Stoll.” They’re both a tad shorter than her.

“Agent Connor Stoll with the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division.”

Annabeth who has worked closely with the government for the past ten years is puzzled. She’s never heard of this branch of the United States government. “That’s a mouthful,” she notes lazily.

“That’s what she said,” both brothers chime in, matching grins.

Annabeth rolls her eyes.

“Listen-,”

“We know this must be a trying time for you but-,”

“We need to debrief you.”

Annabeth carefully studies her drink, avoiding eye contact with either twin. Distantly she wonders if they practice this bit, or if it’s just an automatic part of being a twin.

“There’s still a lot of unanswered questions.”

“And time can be an important matter in these situations,” Travis finishes, popping an olive into his mischievous mouth. “Let’s put something on the books? How about the twenty fourth, seven pm at Chase Industries?”

Annabeth spies Katie, wearing a beautiful dress, embroidered with flowers and vines at the hem. Loose in the way Katie prefers her clothes to be, elegant even as they obscure her form slight form. Brown afro pulled back into sleek buns. It’s a relief to see someone she can finally feel comfortable around. Someone who won’t be fishing for any mental breakdown they can tell the press about.

“Tell you what,” she answers, willing to do anything to get away, “you got it.” She’ll have Grover and Katie look into these people. Katie was a hound for information and Grover loved government conspiracies. He still believed that aliens were kept at area fifty five despite having accompanied her there on various occasions.

Conner shakes her hand and she makes her escape, automatically heading to Katie like a compass that always points north.

There’s many people who’d love to see her fall apart right now.

Annabeth refuses to give anyone the satisfaction.

“Katie,” she greets, drink forgotten as soon as she places it down on the table, “how was it that you got an invite when even I couldn’t get one.”

“Well,” Katie says with a smile, “people know to be nice to assistants if they want a good appointment time. Or a callback.”

Annabeth laughs at the unexpected answer. “Woah Gardner, that’s pretty harsh from you.”

“I learned from the best,” Katie teases.

“Want to dance,” Annabeth asks her, surprising even herself.

“Only if you buy me another drink after,” Katie negotiates shrewdly, smiling up at Annabeth with a warmth that most people lack when talking to her.

“Katie! I’m shocked.”

“I’m off the clock.”

Annabeth snorts, “thought assistants are always on the clock.”

“You really going to pull the boss card,” Katie counters, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course not,” Annabeth admits, amused, “otherwise you wouldn’t get to dance with this amazing billionaire.”

Katie laughs, shoulders shaking and they make their way out onto the dance floor, her arm going around Annabeth’s back, hands meeting loosely. There’s enough space between them to keep this fun and light.

“What pulled you out of your lab you freaking workaholic?”

Annabeth shrugs, “I like proving people wrong.”

“Of course you do,” Katie says, smiling in amusement.

It’s easier to dance with her than any man Annabeth has known sober. There’s an ease, no tension, to take away from her enjoyment.

“And as great as the views are, they just don’t compare to some of the beautiful places in the city.” Her dad had loved this city. Had poured so much money into charities and conservation efforts. He used to take her to the science center even when Annabeth had more than passed by the elementary explanations of natural phenomena.

“Your so full of it,” Katie says, mossy green eyes twinkling as she meets Annabeth’s gaze. “I think I’ll have to leave you halfway just to knock you down a few pegs.”

“You wound me.”

“You need it! Also the hair! Short,” Katie observes, “I don’t remember scheduling a haircut in.”

“It was,” Annabeth shrugs, “unexpected.” She trails off.

“It suits you. Most things do.”

“You know you have a carte a blanche to buy all your plants for my house,” Annabeth jokes, noticing a man coming up to them. Talk, dark, and handsome. Familiar since most people at these events blend together.

Katie doesn't reply, pulling away from Annabeth cooly.

“Wow Miss Chase,” he greets evenly, “fancy seeing you here.”

“Oh hey,” she scrambles for a name, “Issac?”

“Isaiah, from vanity fair.”

Annabeth nods, refusing to look away even as she flushes pink.

“You have a lot of nerve showing up here tonight,” he states, regarding her coldly. She hasn’t been out since she got back. Hasn’t been in the public eye since the press conference two months ago. Annabeth has no clue what he could be referring to. “Can I at least get a reaction from you?”

“Confusion,” she utters, waving Katie off. She deals with enough shit while working, and tonight’s her day off after all. Annabeth can handle herself for one night. “I would say confusion.”

“I was referring to your company's involvement in this latest atrocity.”

She’s at a loss. Chase Industries suspended weapons manufacturing sixty one days ago. She made sure of that. Arachne had told her she’d convinced the board to go along with this new position despite the stock market hit. “That’s not possible,” is all she can think to say.

There’s no pity in his eyes and she braces herself for the news. “Is this what you call accountability,” he asks, offering her a few photos. “It’s a town called Gulmira. Heard of it?”

Hephaestus. She takes the photos from his hands, seeing the images of destruction and terrorists armed with the unmistakable Chase Industries logo. The same logo she sees whenever she closes her eyes. Gulmira, where Hephaestus had been taken from. Where his family still lived.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Not again. She wouldn’t let this happen again. Not on her watch.

“When were these taken,” she hears herself ask, already plotting the fastest course from SF to Afghanistan. The suit can withstand it. It’s equipped. She can be there in four hours. Do what needed to be done.

“Yesterday.”

“Well I didn’t approve any shipments,” she states, lips drawn thin.

“Well your company did,” he observes, waiting for her response, waiting to see if this is the straw that breaks the camel's back.

Too bad Annabeth Chase is made of tougher stuff than that. She’s been tortured. This is nothing.

“Well I’m not my company. Now excuse me there’s some people I need to talk to.” One person. Arachne.

Arachne who’s still schmoozing the press.

“Have you seen these picture,” Annabeth states bluntly at her, wanting and waiting for her to deny everything. To tell her-to explain how this happened and fix it. Her-Annabeth knows that she won’t. Know’s only Arachne wouldn’t had the clearance and power within the company to sell under the table right under Annabeth’s nose.

It still hurts, as she watches Arachne’s eyes harden.

“Annie,” she responds mockingly, “you can’t afford to be this naive.”

The truth dawns on her like a weight pulling her down, sinking into her stomach like a missile exploding. “It was you wasn’t it,” she states, piecing everything together, “not the board that wanted to ice me out. That’s why you had me stay away. And I trusted you.”

Arachne Stane sighs, pinching her nose bridge before meeting Annabeth’s enraged gaze. “I build this company from the ground up. I went to Harvard back when I was one of only a handful of women even admitted into the school. You think I was just going to let you destroy it. Not. On. My. Watch.”

And Annabeth had let her do it.

Then, as a final blow, she adds, “your mother would've done the same thing Annabeth.” Throwing an arm around her and smiling as the cameras flash, blindingly white as Annabeth stands there, frozen in shock.

She swallows, mouth dry.

*

The suit is ready when she gets to her lab, tossing off her suit in exchange for compression tights and a bodysuit from her brief stint as a runner. If Grover notices anything wrong with her silence he says nothing, allowing her to stew.

She’ll have to call a board meeting first thing tomorrow.

But first Gulmira.

It’s shiny and gold, the red cutting the jarring bright color perfectly.

It’s a humanoid robot suit, guaranteeing anonymity.

If she couldn’t trust Arachne she couldn’t trust anyone. Annabeth would just have to do everything herself. She was alone again like she’d always been, packed off to boarding school while her baby teeth were still falling out.

Fine so be it.

*

Festus announces three hours and forty nine minutes into the flight that they’re about to arrive over Gulmira, “to clear skies. Minimal wind.”

“Okay Festus,” she says grimly, zeroing in on the fighting in the center of the town where civilians are being ripped apart from their families, taken prisoner. “It’s now or never.” She lands just as a member of the 10 rings is about to shoot a father. She remembers him from her time as a captive, eying her with slimy lust.

A terrorist starts firing, refusing to stop even when it’s clear that the bullets are having no effect on her suit, scratching the new paint job that hadn't had time to fully dry. Champagne problems. She punches him into the second story of a building, pivoting and using her hand thruster to knock a man on her left out.

Another man fires up, and she’s sending him flying with another thruster expulsion. It’s all to easy from within her metal suit. Designed for protection.

Again she pivots, only to come face to face with more men, their voices yelling in their various languages, arabic, urdu, russian, guns pressed against the heads of innocent women and children. Their only crime was to be born too close to a war.

She stands down, her optics calculating the flight trajectory of bullets within seconds, firing right into the bodies of the men without leaving a scratch on the civilians. Their bodies toppling over gracelessly.

She wants to throw up from how easy it is.

Death shouldn’t be this easy.

It was just wrong.

Annabeth presses on, locating the body heat signature of the man, of her captor, and punches through the wall like its paper, dragging him out of his hidden spot. She wasn’t a court of justice, but she figures these people deserve to deal out their justice on the person who’s been ordering the raids on their home. On their town.

She hopes Hephaestus family is okay. They could be any of these women and children. She’d rather not know for better or worse. Annabeth would like to imagine that they got away clean.

“He’s all yours,” she announces through the speaker before taking flight once more over to the next town where the 10 rings have holed up with their latest supply of Chase weapons.

“Festus,” she commands.

“I’m locating all the caches of weapons,” her A.I. announces.

The weight of a truck crashes into her. An anti aircraft torpedo, crashing against her, sending her flailing down. It hurts, even through the suit. There’s nothing she can do as she crashes into the ground, collision echoing out like a firework, splitting the earth underneath her.

Dust flies everywhere and her optics switch to infrared, allowing her to climb up and out of the crater, meeting the tank head on.

She launches a compact, but powerful, missile of her own.

It rips the tank apart like taffy.

She ignores the 10 rings members who fire at her, flying up to target the missile cache, her suit powering up the hand thrusters and sending a propulsion of energy that blows them up, engulfing half the town in fire.

That was her design. Terrible weapons of war. Each more precise and powerful than the last. What could she have accomplished if she had put her mind to riding the world of hunger and disease these last ten years?

“Festus, calculate a flight home,” she says, gaining cruising altitude.

A nice thing about the air over Afghanistan was that there weren’t many commercial flights to take care of. Too much risk to fly over a war torn country.

“Yes Miss,” he says, overlaying the specs over her interface.

*

She’s just exited disputed Afghanistan air when she gets a call, green day blasting through her helmet. Thalia.

It was like she had a sixth sense, probably chilling in a military bunker in Nevada while Annabeth was out here doing Thalia’s job for her. She hopes its about making amends, despite the horrible timing.

“Annie it’s Thalia,” she voices, “what the hell is that noise.”

No amount of insulation was going to mask the sound of air while still keeping her body temperature in equilibrium with the suit.

“Got the car’s top down.” It’s a terrible answer. Annabeth has never been a great liar.

“Yeah well I need your help right now,” Thalia responds through gritted teeth. Both of them had too much pride. It was a wonder their friendship has lasted this long.

“Funny how that works huh,” Annabeth can’t help but bait.

“Yeah, well, speaking of funny. We have a weapons depot that was blown up just a few clicks from where you were being held captive,” Thalia informs her bluntly.

“Well,” Annabeth says, unable to help the patronizing edge to her voice, “sounds like someone stepped in and did your job for you.” If only Thalia could see her shit eating grin. People always were telling Annabeth she should smile more.

Thalia, ever observant, notes, “why do you sound out of breath Annie?”

“I was just jogging in the hills.”

“Thought you were driving,” Thalia retorts, backing Annabeth into a corner.

Damn that woman.

“You sure you don’t have any tech in that area I should know about?”

“Nope.”

“Okay because I’m staring at one right now and it’s about to be blown up,” Thalia states.

It takes all her willpower not to curse out loud. The sound of raptors surrounding the air near her. “And that’s my exit.” Festus hangs up automatically, reading her mood the way an ever learning A.I. should.

She pivots in the air, trying to shake them.

She engages her supersonic thrust capabilities. It was an upgrade from the new suit, but she didn’t know how long she could sustain this mode with her new arc reactor.

“Miss, a missile has locked onto you.” Festus informs her as calmly as Annabeth feels panicked.

Shit.

“Wait until it closes in and then deploy flares,” Annabeth orders, mind twisting over possibilities in her mind for evasion. The blast sends her forward, fireball cloaking the sky behind her.

Using the impairment to her advantage, Annabeth flies down and under one of the raptors, hooking onto the wind, careful to keep her weight to herself.

As a small flight suit, she should be invisible to their radar now.

“Festus call Thalia!”

“Right away miss.”

The call connects.

“Thalia! It’s me! I’m sorry, I mean it is Me. The bogie is me.” She can’t get anymore obvious then that.

“Annabeth,” Thalia snarls, “you better not be saying what I think you are.”

“I’m in the aircraft! It’s a suit!”

“Shit,” Thalia curses over the line.

The raptor rolls, sending Annabeth flying, crashing into the other raptor. She rips through its wing like it’s paper. At least she knows how sturdy her suit is.

She watches the pilot eject but there’s no parachute visible.

Sighing she dives down, her specs zeroing in on her target.

“Maximum power to thrusters!”

“You’ve been engaged, calculating evasive maneuvers,” Festus counters.

“No,” she yells, closing in on the pilot, “keep going.”

She intercepts the pilot, her hand pulling on the jabbed parachute until it opens up, chute carrying the pilot away.

Thalia speaks up, “Annie you still there,” as Annabeth engages her evasive maneuvers, flying fast away from the raptors. The sooner she gets home, the better.

“Yeah,” she answers. Mind racing. She’s called a board meeting. Now she needs evidence about Stane’s actions.

“You owe me a plane you crazy bitch.”

“Well technically he hit me,” she counters. “Now you going to come back to see what I’m working on?”

“As soon as I’m done cleaning up your mess,” she answers before the line goes dead.

*

The suit needs an upgrade Annabeth decides as it refuses to come off. “It was designed to come off. I designed it.”

“Sorry Miss it’s a tight fit.”

Maybe automatic locks along the type used in hydroelectric dams or submarines to keep the suit pressurized? “Ow!”

“The more you struggle,” Festus warns her, amusement clear in his calming voice, “the more this is going to hurts.”

Annabeth grins, thinking of Thalia, “be gentle, it’s my first time.”

The door opens up behind her. “Annabeth?”

She turns her head, Katie coming to a stand still in front of her. She’s wearing flats for a change. They make her as silent as a ninja.

“Let’s be honest,” Annabeth utters, thinking back on the last ten years, “this is not the worst thing you’ve caught me doing.”

“What’s going on here,” Katie wonders out loud, eyes wide in concern.

Annabeth wonders if this is the final straw for her. Kicking her one night stands out. Easy. Forcing Annabeth to eat during one of her maniac work episodes. Simple. Annabeth decided to become a vigilante. No can do.

“Are those bullet holes,” Katie utters, hand coming up to cup her mouth. “Annie!”

Annabeth shrugs. “It was Arachne. She’s been dealing under the table. She’s going to kick me out of my own company.” She shakes her head. How could she have been so naive?

“Annabeth,” Katie repeats, looking her over as the chest plate finally comes loose. Now for the arms and legs. It’s a domino effect from there.

Mark III will have an automatic lock in system, she decides. Not more messing around with robots and screws.

She’ll start on it tomorrow once the Stane business is handled.

“I need you,” Annabeth starts, hopping out of the boots, “to go to my office,” she starts carefully. There’s bullets to fix and patches to make while she mocks up an upgrade. No. That’s tomorrow. If she starts now she’ll no doubt miss the board meeting. “Hack into the mainframe. And retrieve all the recent shipping manifests. That way we can prove beyond a doubt what Stane’s been doing.”

She hands Katie a key, her personal master key to all things Chase Industries. “This’ll get you in.”

Annabeth turns back to the suit, unable to meet Katie’s heavy gaze. “It’s probably under executive files. If not, they put it on a ghost drive in which case you need to look for the lowest numerically.”

“And then,” Katie utters, her voice brittle like rusted metal.

“And then I’m going to find my weapons and destroy them.”

“Annie,” Katie responds, voice breaking, “you know I would do anything for you. But I cannot-I won’t help you if you’re going to start all of this up again.”

“You don’t get it,” Annabeth states, meeting Katie’s hurt gaze, “I was never out. Until all the weapons my company-I created are decommissioned. There is no out. There is nothing except this. There is no art opening. There is no benefit. There is nothing to sign.There is only the next mission.” There’s an irony in finally turning herself into a weapon after a lifetime of building weapons.

_You reap what you sow._

“Is that so,” Katie Gardner asks.

Annabeth doesn’t budge.

There’s a hardness in her eyes directed at Annabeth she’s never seen there before. “Well then I quit,” she states simply, looking every bit the kicked puppy she is.

Ice queen Annabeth Chase strikes again.

“You stood by my side all these years while I war profiteered, while I killed people in the name of peace, and this is where you draw the line?” There’s a certain amount of disgust she can’t mask. “And now that I’m trying to protect the people that I put in harm’s way, now that I’m trying to make amends, you’re going to walk out?”

“You’re going to kill yourself Annabeth,” Katie simply states. “This isn’t the way to fix things. And I’m not going to be a part of it.”

“I shouldn’t be alive,” Annabeth tells her, sinking into her chair feeling very small, “Unless it was for a reason.”

“I’m not crazy Gardner. I just finally know what I have to do. And I know in my heart that it’s right.” Until there’s peace on earth, she’d be the first line of defense between the innocent and those who would seek power and money regardless of the cost.

Katie takes the key, a sad smile to her lips as she does, “you’re all I have too you know.”


	4. i am iron(wo)man.

Annabeth has finally finished patching up the suit when a call comes in. Outside her system, how archaic. She has to find an actual phone, a fossil almost.

She digs around the couch before picking up to Katie’s voice.

“Annie?”

A buzz rings into her skull, worming it’s way to her bones, leaving her catatonic in her own body, her mind trapped inside an unresponsive. She remembers these toys. Short range weapons. A side effect of watching A Quiet Place.

Damn her.

Damn Arachne, she thinks as the older woman comes into view.

“Breath,” she says with amusement. “You remember this one don’t you. There’s so many applications to causing short term paralysis.”

Annabeth’s body feels like dead weight around her, like the moment after a missile explodes, eyes regaining their sight, mind ajar. The blood had oozes out of her chest before she could make sense of what happened.

“When I ordered the hit on you,” Arachne begins, twisting the knife of betrayal deeper, “I worried that I was killing the golden goose.” She takes out a metal extractor, perfect for an arc reactor the size of Annabeth’s. “But you see,” she continues, placing it over Annabeth’s shirt, over the light. “It was just fate that you survived. You had one last golden egg to give.” The paralysis has worn off enough for the full pain of her heart rapidly shutting down, each beat slower than the last, to register. She’s escaped a cave only to come and die here, alone.

“You see Annie,” Arachne mocks, “just because you have an idea, doesn’t mean it belongs to you. Your father, she helped give us the atomic bomb. The first super soldier. Now what kind of world would it be if she was as selfish as you.” Her eyes are cold as they watch Annabeth struggle for every breath she takes.

Not here. She can’t die like this, leaving a madwoman with the power of the arch reactor. With the suit.

“Oh it’s beautiful,” she states, looking at the arc reactor adoringly, like one would a child, her hand gently stroking Annabeth’s short locks. “Annie, this is your Pantheon. Look at this masterpiece. This is your legacy. A new generation of weapons with this at its heart. Weapons that will help scare the world back on track. Weapons that will put the balance of power back in our hands where it belongs.”

She rises, looking down at Annabeth who's choking on every breath. She can’t get enough oxygen down. Fuck. Fuck. She wants to cry. Eyes wet with unshed tears. “It’s a shame you can’t see my suit.”

“In trying to ride the world of weapons. You gave it it’s best one.”

And then she’s gone, leaving Annabeth to crawl, dragging herself to the stairs. An elevator’s being installed as soon as Arachne’s dead. As soon as-

Her head bangs against each step she slides down, vision swimming.

Katie. She needs to live for Katie.

Arachne, Arachne who she’d thought of as a mentor, an aunt, a mother, did this to her. She wouldn’t hesitate to kill Katie as collateral.

Fuck.

Chase, get a hold of yourself.

But she can’t breath. Can barely crawl.

Falling is faster. All she has to do is fall.

The effects of the paralysis numb the worst of the bruises she’ll no doubt wake up with tomorrow, but she will wake up.

Butterfingers passes the Mark I arc reactor, a sentimental present from Katie, to her. She doesn’t have enough energy to smash the case, to slot it into place.

“Annabeth,” Thalia screams.

She smiles bitterly up at her friend, words beyond her. 

Thalia, who’d rescued her, who’d seen the arc reactor with her own eyes, made flashlight jokes, slots in into place, holding Annabeth against her chest, cradling her body.

It flickers, but hold.

It’s enough. It has to be enough.

“Who did this,” she demands, unruly hair falling into her midnight blue eyes.

“Stane,” she grits out, “she’s-I have to stop her.”

“Annabeth,” Thalia gasps, pale, blood leached from her skin, “you can’t.”

“No one else can,” Annabeth tells her, getting up, reaching for her suit. “Just keep the skies clear. She has her own suit.”

“Okay.” Thalia nods, stealing herself. “Just don’t you dare die on me!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Annabeth responds, helmet clicking into place. She didn’t want to face Thalia’s wrath.

“Miss,” Faustus reminds her, “that reactor was never designed for sustained flight.”

It has to be enough.

“I know,” Annabeth snaps, letting her armour screw into place. There’s no time to waste. The longer Stane has with the arc reactor, the more damage she’ll cause. Fuck, she built her own.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

The suit powers on.

“Festus plot a course for Chase Industries.”

“Miss, the suit is only at sixty three percent and falling.”

“Just do it.”

*

She’s in the air, still half out of breath, tears falling freely now.

With the Mark II chest piece, Arachne won’t go down without a fight. It’ll be to the death and Annabeth has had enough killing to last a lifetime. There’s never been an out. This is her life now.

If she can take Arachne Stane, she can take down anyone.

“Festus call Katie.”

The line clicks to life immediately, a frantic Katie shouting, “Annie! Annie are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Arachne. She’s gone insane. She built a suit.”

“I know. Listen, you better get out of there.”

She screams and Annabeth curses. Fucking Arachne.

Annabeth repeats herself, “get out of there right now!”

Katie Garner screams and Annabeth reaches Stane, crashing into her heat first, taking them both tumbling down to the basement of Chase Industries. Sector 16. Rolling through the building like it’s made of wet paper, and tumbling into a cargo truck.

“Stane!”

Cars swerve around them.

Annabeth is still shaking it off when Stane lifts a car. “I love this suit,” she yells, voice modulator making her sound more menacing than she is. The suit is larger than even the one Annabeth built in the cave. Wielding marks clearly present. Easily the size of an SUV.

“Put them down,” Annabeth yells back.

“Collateral damage Annie!”

She has just enough time to tell Festus to divert power to her chest R.T. before Stane throws the car full of mom and kids at her. The blast knocks Stane back, buying her time. But the weight of the car is crippling above her, pinning her down. The Mark I chest piece can barely run the suit. The added weight overwhelms it.

She has to put them down, fast.

“Power reduced to nineteen percent,” Festus announces, robotic voice unbothered.

She falls to her knees.

The car hits the pavement hard, taking her along with them. She loses her grip and gets dragged across the street. Annabeth lifts the car just enough to get herself lose.

She’s sent tumbling across traffic for her efforts.

Shaking her head she gets up. Stane hits her with a motorcycle, knocking her right back down again, her rough metal fist closing around Annabeth’s suit, around Annabeth.

“For ten years I’ve been holding you up,” Stane roars, smashing Annabeth down against the ground, pounding her with her leg. “I built this company from nothing! And nothing is going to stand in my way.” Her fist closes around Annabeth, who’s too late to scramble out of the way. Tossing her aside like a sack of potatoes, right into a bus.

“Least of all you.”

The resulting explosion propels her up.

“Divert all power to thrusters,” she grits out, feeling more helpless then she had in the cave. At least then she still had people in her corner. She hovers about Stane’s monstrosity of a suit.

“I see you’ve upgraded your suit,” Stane calls out. “I’ve made some upgrades of my own.” She starts to rise. Fuck. Of course she can fly what with the luck Annabeth’s been having lately.

“Miss,” Festus’ voice rings out, “it appears it can fly.”

“I can see that,” Annabeth snaps back. Quickly flipping through her options. She’s no match for that suit. Not with the mark I chest piece.

And this is it’s first outing.

Ice.

“Take me to maximum altitude,” she orders.

“With only fifteen percent power the odds of reaching that-,”

Arachne gets ever closer.

“I know the math! Just do it!”

Festus does as ordered, slipping out of Stane’s reach.

She shoots up like a rocket, desperation sinking into her skin. She can’t panic. She doesn’t have any power to divert for that.

“Eleven percent power Miss.”

“Climb,” Annabeth yells, panic in her voice. “Keep going.” This had to work. There was no plan B and Stane couldn’t be allowed to possess such a power. Not when all she wanted was to use it to deal out more death and destruction.

“Seven percent power!”

“Just leave it on the screen,” Annabeth grunts out.

Arachne closes in behind her as her power level drops, all tapped out, metal wrist closing around Annabeth’s leg. “It was a greatidea Annie but my suit is more advanced in every way.”

“Yeah,” Annabeth grins, “how’d you solve the icing problem.”

“Icing problem?”

Arachne lets her go, falling like a meteor to earth.

“We are now running on emergency backup power,” Festus announces. It’s only enough to slow down her plummet to the ground. She aims for her company, it’ll be mostly empty.

She crashes onto the roof.

“Gardner?”

“Annie! Fuck! Are you okay?” Her voice is high and panicked and worried. She owes Katie such a raise after putting her through this. And a vacation. Annabeth could probably manage without her for a week.

“I’m almost out of power,” she admits, “I gotta get out of this thing and get a new chest piece.” Another could be build in a few hours. She still had the blueprints in her lab. Could probably fit in some new upgrades while she was at it. Surely emergency power was enough to keep her heart going until then. “I’ll be right there.”

Stane lands behind her. The noise like a tank moving.

Annabeth clicks her helmet back into place.

“Nice try,” Arachne swings, sending Annabeth flying back.

She shakes it off, jumping for Stane’s back, flattening herself against the other suit, using her small size. She needs every advantage she can get right now. She pulls at exposed wires, “this looks important,” before Stane can reach her.

Stane’s fist closes around her suit, the pressure breaching her suit, cracking her helmet.

“Festus what are our options?”

“No weapons cache I’m afraid Miss.”

“Deploy flares!” Note to upgrade Festus’ list of potential weapons.

Stane lets her go, giving her time to duck behind a crate amidst the smoke. “Gardner?”

“Annie!”

“This isn’t working. We’re going to have to overload the reactor and blast the roof. Go to the central consul. Open up all the central circuits. I’ll clear the roof and you hit the master bypass button.”

“Annie,” Stane yelled, aimlessly deploying charges. She must have ripped out her visual optics. If only she could shut her off. Damn her mark II chest piece.

The mark III needed an external kill switch, just in case one ever fell into the wrong hands again.

“Just make sure you clear the roof,” Katie lets her know. “Okay.”

“I’ll buy us some time.”

For lack of a better plan, she throws herself at Stane again, uselessly pounding her fists against the impenetrable suit. Stane swats her away like a spider, ripping her helmet off. “I never had a taste for this sort of thing,” she calls out, “but I must admit, I am enjoying this.” The helmet is crumpled in her fist as Annabeth hands on to a beam, all out of power, all out of plans.

“You finally outdid yourself Annie. I’ve got to thank you for that. You’re going to make me a legend.” She sends bullets wildly flying at her, shattering the rest of the glass around her.

Cutting off any hope of escape.

“It’s ready Annabeth,” Katie calls out, “get off the roof.”

She can’t.

“Just blast it Gardner,” Annabeth spits out. Thalia’s going to kick her ass, but what more can she do. Brace herself?

“Ironic isn’t it,” Stane smiles, opening up her suit, “you’re going to die by the very weapon you created to save lives.”

“Hit the button,” Annabeth yells.

“But you’re still up there,” Katie replies.

“It’s okay.”

“You’ll die!”

“Push it,” she yells.

And Katie does, the white blast burning into her retinas, blasting her across the roof. For once, she’s thankful for the flickering chest piece, for less than perfection. It just saved her life. She would've friend like Arachne Stane if she was wearing the Mark II chest piece.

Annabeth closes her eyes.

At peace.

*

“Iron man,” Annabeth scowls, “that’s sexist. Not to mention it’s a titanium alloy. Hardly Iron.”

“I like it,” Katie offers, finishing up Annabeth’s makeup as she looks over the cards the Stoll brothers have prepared for her. Connor leans on the wall, picking at his nails, while Travis sits on the couch, feet on the leather.

“Isn’t it more sexist to see sexism in everything,” Connor says wiggling his eyebrows, “I mean isn’t gender neutrality what you’re going for?”

“Shut up Connor,” Katie snaps.

Annabeth’s classic black suit, loose against her, cloaks the faint glow of light from her mark III arc reactor. Thalia’s warming up the cloud, lying to a room full of reporters, just like what Annabeth will do in a couple of minutes. All the alibis are set up.

Statements ready and waiting.

“Who cares,” Travis observes, “just stick to the script Annabeth Chase.” There’s a taunt in there somewhere, but Annabeth could care less. She’s alive. Somehow she inherited Stane’s shares, and she knows her company’s new direction.

Renewable energy.

Katie had pointed out the obvious.

“Yacht, Avalon, party,” Annabeth mutters, “I got it.”

“You have a minute,” Connor calls out, and then they’re gone.

“God they’re so annoying,” Annabeth tells Katie who laughs.

“They’re kind of funny.”

Annabeth shakes her head. “I’m glad its you. By my side I mean. By Iron Man’s side.”

She snorts, “don’t you mean Iron Woman?”

“I guess,” Annabeth says, the idea of it latching onto her mind like glue. That was her whole problem. She could never let things go could she. “There’s no one else I’d rather have by my side.”

“Of course not,” Katie states, “I’m your best friend.”

“Just don’t tell Thalia that.”

She heads out to meet with the hyenas.

*

“It’s been a while since I was in front of you,” Annabeth states from memory, having memorized the cards by now, “figure I’ll stick to the cards this time.”

The two agent Stoll brothers had even included audience laughs.

The press laughs.

“There’s been speculation that I was involved in the events that occurred on the freeway and rooftop-,”

“I’m sorry Miss Chase,” Isaiah from Vanity fair interrupts, “but do you honestly expect us to believe that that was a bodyguard in a suit that conveniently appeared despite that fact that-,”

It all sounds too ridiculous and contrived to her too, but these were the notecards. She puts them down, facing the crowd, meeting their expectant gazes evenly.

“I know that it’s confusing,” she ad-libs, “It is one thing too question the official story and another thing entirely to make wild accusations or insinuate that I’m uh-a superhero.” Damn her. She should’ve quit while she was ahead. Or taken Connor’s dumb idea about showing up drunk and falling over. He’d pitched the idea, the rationale being that all the rumors would die if they all thought she was just a drunk rich socialite a la Paris Hilton.

Isaiah clarifies, “I never said you were a superhero.”

Damn her.

“You didn’t,” she says stupidly, racing to save her statement. “Well good. Because that would be outlandish and uh-fantastic.” Secret identities never worked out in stories. Someone always got hurt. There was so much angst there. And they weren’t the precedent set by the world’s first superhero. “I am just not the hero type. With all my flaws and mistakes I’ve made but,” Thalia leans over to her.

“Wrap it up Chase.”

She takes a deep breathe. Katie hadn’t left. Grover was still driving her around, eating cheeseburgers as she worked on her Mark III suit, waxing poetic about his girlfriend and her ongoing research.Thalia had yelled at her for an hour and then hugged her for two.

She’ll be fine.

“The truth is. I am Iron Woman.”


End file.
